


Eat Your Heart Out

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crushes, Extra warning in chapter 7, Foreshadowing, Gay, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Reiner has "amnesia" (hint: it's not amnesia), RomCom with a twist (hehehe), Slow Burn, Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bertolt Hoover was the greatest friend you could ask for. One who'd always have your back. Ideal boyfriend material, really.Not that you could ever work up the courage to confess.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes we came up with on the fly and will be posting it like that. this is really gay.

Your favorite activity to do as of late was ogle Bertolt’s ass as he walked past you. He didn’t seem to notice (and if he did, he never spoke up about it) and he had a great ass. And back, for that matter. And lips, and muscles, and personality…

Ideal boyfriend material. 

Not that you’d ever speak up to him about it. You couldn’t chance it. Sure, he may reciprocate your feelings, but what were the odds? He’d never shown any signs of being as interested in you as you were him, and you always caught him staring at Annie. He probably stared at Annie as much as you stared at his ass.

No, you’d never have the courage to tell him about these feelings you harbored. Even though you desperately wanted to and were currently alone on the roof with him. It’d be so  _ easy _ to grab his hand and pull him in for a kiss. But to tell him that he was all you ever wanted and you loved him more than anything? That’d be the most difficult thing you’d probably ever have to do. So you won’t do it.

“Bertolt,” you start, absentmindedly, “What should we have for dinner?” You see him look up to you from the corner of your eye but don’t tear your gaze away from the sunset.

He shrugs, or something like that. “I dunno,” he says, “Whatever is being made. If you have a request, you should go tell someone now, while you still can.”  _ Are you an option, sexy? _

“Yeah,” you grunt, staring ahead blankly. You should probably try and have a little more self control over your thoughts but you really couldn’t help it sometimes. 

Shame washes over you when you remember just how weird it was of you to think like that. Bertolt was your best friend, one that you’d had since Elementary School. He probably thought of you like a brother, yet here you were fantasizing about groping his ass as he climbed onto you and...him kissing you...pinning him against a wall…

“It’s beautiful,” he speaks again. You finally look away from the pink sky and over to him, a little thankful for the distraction from your thoughts.

Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word. He looked so peaceful, eyes shining and mouth pulled into a smile. Not even perfect was a strong enough word in this situation.

“It is.” Perhaps it’s a little cliche of you to be doing this. Staring at the man you loved as he admired an amazing sight, really talking about him when he comments on how wonderful the view was. A part of you feels nostalgic, almost. You hadn’t stopped to do something so simple in what felt like decades. The world could finally be ending, and you wouldn’t care at all in this moment.

You close your eyes and turn away in an attempt to keep yourself from heating up in embarrassment. 

“What’s with that face?” Bertolt laughs. So much for trying to act natural--you can feel a blush taking over your cheeks and ears.

“I’m just thinking,” You mumble, internally hoping he won’t push the subject.

“About?” ...Of course he pushes it.

“The zombie apocalypse,” you reply, voice teasing. He gives you a confused look for a moment before laughing loud enough he feels he needs to cover his mouth.  _ Cute. _

“Seriously though,” you sigh when he stops laughing, “I...there’s something that’s been on my mind.”

He leans in a little closer to you and you bite down on your tongue.

“Bertl, I…” You huff and pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know why you’re even trying to say it in the first place. Maybe because the sunset was ‘romantic’ and it felt like a good moment.

You take in a deep breath, ready to just let it spill, but as soon as you get “I” out, Jean’s bursting through the door and telling you dinner was ready.

You kinda want to scream. No, actually, you do. You really want to scream. You worked up the courage to confess and had it ruined by Jean telling you  _ dinner  _ was ready. That could’ve waited, right?

You glare at him on your way downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you okay?” Bertolt asks you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You blink up to him, shrugging a little.

“I’m fine,” you huff, “I think dinner just didn’t sit well with me.” He frowns a little, looking you over.

“I can help you to the bathroom if you want,” he tells you. You laugh at his expression but shake your head. It was just a stomach ache, after all. You lean on him as you walk anyway.

“It’s probably pretty late now,” you offer up in an attempt to start a conversation. Bertolt nods silently and you give an annoyed look. He practically giggles at your attempt at humor.

“It is,” he agrees, “We should get to sleep soon.” Sleep sounded pretty good. Today had been long and boring. And on top of that, your stomach was hurting.

You let out a loud, pained groan, practically falling into Bertolt’s arms. His ears start turning red and you feel oddly content that he’s so embarrassed. He catches you, of course, and you smile up at him in with a flirty look on your face.

“Carry me?” you breathe, trying to ignore the feeling of your heart in your throat. He pouts--and oh, it’s so _adorable_ \--but doesn’t complain as he lifts you up.

He’s carried you before, but for some reason this time feels _special_. Like you’ve just been married and he’s carrying you away from the reception and towards your new life together. You feel a little stupid for wishing for something like that for a moment, so you dismiss it from your mind and try your hardest not to stare at his lips.

He carries you to the room everyone was sleeping in, sets you down on your makeshift bed and turns on one of the lamps. It had been agreed that everyone should sleep in the same room. Part of you thinks it’s because Armin is scared of the dark.

Bertolt sits down next to you, cross legged and staring up at the ceiling. You lay down and roll onto your side, but you're still aware of Bertolt’s presence. And you're alone. You grimace, back turned to him. There’s no better moment than now, you guess.

“Hey Bertolt,” you say as you sit up with a grunt and face him.

He looks down with wide eyes. No better chance than now. You take a deep breath but before you can say anything something slams against the wall outside. You both turn and stare at where the sound was coming from, and you think there’s going to be another bang. Nothing comes. You quickly turn back to Bertolt but he still has his eyes glued. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing apparently,” you reply, wincing. _Really? Now?_

“But what if it was?” He presses, his voice low as he slowly turns back to you.

“Does it matter?” _Another_ moment ruined by an interruption. _Why?_

“Alright then…” He sounds uncertain, but at least he’s dropping it.

“Anyways…” He scooches closer and leans towards you until he’s inches from your face. God, you wish it’s for a kiss, but you know better. “What were you talking about back there?” You blink, a little confused at first.

“Oh,” he hums, “I meant on the roof.” ... _Of course_ he want to know what you’d been trying to say. He was so oblivious to things like that sometimes.

“Well,” you begin, “I...The atmosphere was nice, right?” He cocks his head to the side but nods in agreement. You could probably feel his breath if you paid attention to it, and it makes your face heat up.

“I wanted to say that...I have a cru--” A loud noise cuts you off, unable to even get through the word. Bertolt obviously spooks, flinging himself up and glancing toward the outer wall. It didn’t sound like it came from there, though…

A moment of panic comes over you--what if someone forced themselves in?--before you realize the rest of the group were still outside the room. It was probably them messing around.

“I’m sorry,” Bertolt mumbles, “I’m going to go see what that was.” You want to tell him _‘no, please don’t leave me’_ but your pride gets in the way. If it really was just the others goofing around, you didn’t want to admit you were so worried over it.

He glances back your way before leaving the room, and everything is eerily quiet. The air conditioning isn’t on and all you hear is the fading footsteps from outside the room.

Maybe you should request for the air conditioning to be turned on.

A few minutes later, you hear two sets of footsteps in the hallway. It immediately sets you on edge and you look around for anything that could be used as a weapon. The door opens.

It’s just Bertolt and Ymir.

Bertolt notices your uncomfortable look and offers up a shy smile. “It was just Sasha,” he explains, “she dropped some pots.” Ymir rolls her eyes and trots over to her own makeshift bed and rummages through a bag sitting next to it.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face,” she laughs, “I would’ve bet you’d seen a ghost!” You huff at her, ready to snap back, but Bertolt distracts you by curling up in his own makeshift bed, beside yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. You shrug. “That caught me off guard,” you admit, “but I’m alright.”

Ymir doesn’t find whatever she’s looking for and must decide to give up, because she falls over onto her bed.

“I’m going to bed,” she groans, “So don’t stay up talking.”

So you’ve failed confessing to Bertolt once more. You certainly couldn’t do it while Ymir was in the room and the mood was completely ruined.

“It’s probably a good idea to do as she says,” Bertolt chuckles. You’ve gotta agree with him on that front, if only because Ymir would take it upon herself to prank you if you did something she didn’t like. Bitch.

You glance over to her, half expecting her to have read your thoughts, but she doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, “Let’s get to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reiner: carry me ;)  
> bert: yeah, this is how he normally acts


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning reiner is really thirsty and he also can't catch a break

“When are we having lunch?” You mumble, glancing over Bertolt as he left the room. Such a nice ass. Your face heats up over your thoughts.

Eren gives you a confused look. “We already ate,” he huffs, “Like, two hours ago.”  _ What? _

“How do you forget something like that?” he mutters, standing up, probably to leave the room. Marco and Armin look a little confused as well but go back to whatever they were working on. Annie just stares at you, as cold and calculating as ever.

Okay, when did you eat lunch and how did you not know about it? And why would everyone eat without you?

“What do you mean ‘we already ate’?” You ask, “Why would you eat without me?”  _ How _ did they eat without you? You should’ve noticed.

“But you were there,” Armin suddenly says, “We all had those instant ramen cups.” 

“I would know if I-” You start. Eren cuts you off, obviously annoyed. “You ate yours fastest and made some stupid comment on how cute you thought Krista was and Ymir slapped you.” He glares at you, “Did she slap you so hard you can’t remember anything?” 

“Eren…” Armin mutters, covering his face and groaning.

“But I’m gay,” you blurt out. Eren chokes, giving you a shocked look.

“What the fuck, dude?” He coughs. Marco obviously can’t help himself and bursts out laughing, covering his face and laying on the table.

“We already knew that,” You hear Annie mutter...Apparently Eren didn’t, though. You’re not sure if you’re more shocked that Eren didn’t know or that the others did.

Then again, saying you’d try and deep throat a hot dog was probably a pretty giveaway thing. You do it, too, especially if tall, dark and handsome Bertolt was at the other end, and it was a dick instead of a hot dog--

“I didn’t!” Eren cries, throwing his hands up, “I thought you were serious when you were talking about Krista!” 

“Okay, well, the  _ rest _ of us knew,” Armin says, “You’re always staring at Bertolt, after all. I don’t really want to know  _ where  _ you’re staring, though.”

“Agreed,” Annie mutters. She’s probably noticed your...interest in Bertolt’s ass.

“You’re gay for  _ Bertolt _ ?” Eren gapes, “But he’s so...so…”

“I would advise you don’t continue that sentence,” you growl. Even Annie looks a bit peeved, like she was expecting Eren to say something rude about him.

You wouldn’t really mind if she got annoyed enough to flip him. First he snaps at you, then he’s ready to insult your best friend.

“I’m outta here,” he groans, “I don’t want a chair in my face.” With that, he leaves the room. Only a few seconds pass before Bertolt pokes his head in.

“Did I miss something?” He asks, eyes wide, “Eren looks...really confused?” 

Marco bursts out laughing again.

“Nothing!” You exclaim, hoping your face isn’t turning red, “C’mon, let’s...Uh…” You pause, biting your lip. “Let’s go play chess,” You tell him, “I need something to do.” You grab his hand on the way out, but he moves away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You set up the board in a tense silence. Bertolt is obviously nervous about something, but you know he won’t say a word about it unless prompted to...Even then, he might not speak.

“So, uh…” You trail off. Bertolt glances at you but focuses back on the board. He moves a piece.

“Since it’s just the two of us,” you mumble, moving your own piece, “is there anything you want to talk about?” Maybe you could confess to him now? Everyone was busy and you were alone and at least  _ trying _ to have fun.

He shakes his head but doesn’t move a piece. 

“Well,” You start. He moves his piece and you lick your lips.

“I really…” You pause, half expecting someone to walk in. Nobody does. “I really like someone,” you manage to say. He slowly looks from the board to your face.

“I know,” he mumbles, looking back down, “You mentioned it earlier.” You did? When? Did you tell him about your feelings for him?

“Oh,” you finally say, “I did?” He nods. You don’t really remember saying anything about it, but you also don’t remember eating Lunch, so whatever.

“Did I tell you who?” He nods again and you go pale. No wonder he was so uncomfortable...Obviously he didn’t return your feelings. He didn’t want to be around you.

“You like Krista,” he says, “You told me after lunch that you wanted to marry her. I still think that’s a little too far…”

You have to keep yourself from gaping. You’re  _ certain _ that you never said that. You don’t even like Krista! You were gay!

“I...I’m sorry, Reiner,” Bertolt murmurs, “I think I’m going to go for a walk.” He stands up, not even looking at you and leaves the room without another word. 

You stare after him, confused. Krista was in a relationship Ymir. Even if you did like her, you didn’t have a chance with her. But you  _ didn’t _ like her. Why the hell would you say you did? Another confession, ruined. 

And this time it was completely your fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amnesia?? that doesn't seem quite right....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brought to you by the author boyfriends...a new chapter

You wake up on the floor of the kitchen with no recollection of how you got there and why. You vaguely remember Jean and Eren yelling at each other last night and Bertolt curled up on the other side of the room, but that was about it. 

You would know if you got drunk. You’d have a headache or something and you  _ definitely  _ would’ve been dragged back to bed by someone. Also, you’d need alcohol to get drunk, and you certainly didn’t have any of that.

“Reiner?” Ymir’s voice calls, “What the fuck are you doing on the floor?” You squint up at her. 

“Y’know,” you say, “I’m not really sure myself. Did something happen last night?” She glares at you.

“Yeah,” She grunts, “You kept flirting with  _ my  _ girlfriend. What the fuck, dude?” 

When did you do that?

You don’t voice your confusion, only looking away sheepishly and muttering an apology. She apparently deems that enough and storms away, leaving you still laying on the floor.

The thought of staying on the floor briefly crosses your mind but by the time you think it’s almost comfortable, Bertolt is sticking his head in and sighing. 

“What are you doing?” He asks softly. You shrug, looking away in an attempt to not begin to blush. You’re probably blushing anyway.

“C’mon,” he huffs, almost reluctant while pulling you and practically into his arms. You wish you didn’t have to let him go but ignore that feeling, stepping back and brushing off your shirt...Not that there was much dust on you to begin with.

“Ymir and I were supposed to make breakfast today,” Bertolt tells you, “but I guess it’s just me. You really shouldn’t flirt with Krista, Ymir gets so angry...” You wince a little but nod. You could swear you didn’t do anything of the sort but everyone else said you did, so...the odds were stacked against you.

“I can help you if you want,” you finally offer. Bertolt begins to smile at you but his shoulders suddenly droop a little and he shakes his head. 

“I’m okay,” he mumbles, “I’ve got it. Go brush your hair, it’s a mess.” You give him an upset look but do what he asks. He seemed too upset for you to argue.

Marco is the only other person in the bathroom, making faces in the mirror. He laughs a little when he sees you and you’re not sure if it’s at your hair or at his actions.

“My face feels a bit stiff,” he explains. You nod and get to work on your hair. Bertolt had been right, after all...Your hair was sticking up in all directions. You could probably draw lines on your face and you’d look like that one character from that show Connie watched with the ninjas or whatever.

“So,” Marco starts after a few minutes, “You and Bertolt?” You sigh and don’t speak, though Marco continues on anyway.

“Have you told him how you feel?” He asks, moving onto stretching his arms and shoulders.

“No,” you shrug, “People keep interrupting or the timing isn’t good.” You pause.

“Besides,” you murmur, “he likes Annie. I don’t have a chance.” 

Marco hums in response. “I don’t know about that,” he tells you, “Maybe you just need to stop flirting with Krista--” you cut him off with an annoyed groan.

“What?” He asks, “You like her too? I thought you were gay.”

“I am!” You exclaim, covering your face and dragging your hands down your cheeks.

“I don’t remember doing that,” you huff, “I don’t like her that way. I mean...I  _ guess  _ she’s kinda cute, but she’s more like a younger sibling to me.”

Marco hums again, blinking. There’s an almost awkward silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Alright,” he finally says, “I believe you.” You stare at him, a little surprised. 

“Really?” You ask, obviously fluster. Marco shrugs.

“Yeah,” he tells you. Another pause. “Have you been forgetting things for awhile?”

“Uh…” You mumble rather dumbly, “A little while, I guess. Parts of the day are just...gone sometimes. Why?”

“No reason,” Marco laughs, “I’m just curious.” You laugh at little despite the confusion it’s causing you.

On his way out of the bathroom, Marco suddenly stops and grins.

“Why don’t you write a letter to Bertolt? I could give it to him for you,” he suggests.

“A letter?” You echo. He laughs, leaning in as if saying something scandalous. “Y’know! A  _ love  _ letter,” he tells you.

...Oh. That was…actually a pretty good idea. You should do that.

“Alright,” you shrug, probably grinning yourself, “I’ll try.”

* * *

You have no idea what to write to Bertolt. 

That you think his eyes are pretty? His face is cute? His muscles are hot? You would stare at his butt when he wasn’t paying attention?

...Well it was all true, but you probably shouldn’t write it out for him. He’d probably have an anxiety attack right there and then. 

Maybe you shouldn’t write him a letter after all.

But you want to. You really do want to confess to him, since you’ve already tried so many times, and hope he likes you too. There was no point in giving up when you’ve put so much effort into it already.

Thinking like this actually gives you an idea of what to write. Your handwriting is a little sloppy and you don’t bother to make it neater...It’d be a waste of paper.

You finish your message to him off with a specifically clean signature and add a little heart to the end, only to erase the heart. And then add it again. You don’t think you should be this embarrassed but you are anyway.

Even if you were to erase your signature, your poor folding skills and handwriting would be very recognizable to Bertolt. You used to pass notes when you had Science together in 7th grade and he knew your handwriting by heart.

Everyone ate dinner awhile ago and should be settling down for bed, so you decide now was a good time to hand it off to Marco (even though you’d only just written it). He sets it on Bertolt’s bed and you feel a little stupid for not thinking of that yourself. 

You settle into your own bed but face the opposite direction, too nervous to look at what his reaction might be. Had the heart been too much?

A few minutes pass before someone taps on your shoulder and you glance over, expecting to see Bertolt’s crimson face. It’s not Bertolt.

Eren has the letter gripped in one hand and his mouth is drawn into the most exaggerated frown you’ve seen. 

He points to the letter. You blink. He points to himself. 

Oh, _for_ _fuck’s sake_.

“What the fuck, Reiner,” he hisses, face beginning to grow red. You can’t even form a proper response--all you can do is gape. He stares expectantly at you, albeit very embarrassed and angry looking.

“That’s--that’s not for you,” you finally manage to squeak out. You’re probably shaking and you can feel your face heating up.

Eren groans and covers his face, throwing the letter at you. It falls to the ground and you pounce to grab it before anyone else does. Ymir’s obviously noticed by now and looks like she’s about to make a move for the letter herself.

“Oi, what’s that--” Is all she’s able to say before Eren yells ‘shut up’ at her.

You rip the letter up into tiny pieces and tell yourself to burn it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b u r n i t (#reinerissecretlynaruto2017)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we made this seem like a happy fic but _we lied_

Out of everyone in the group, you were the one who was given the only pistol available. Your aim was terrible and you could hardly handle the recoil. And it hurt your ears.

_ Bang! _

It was bad for you all to be so close while you fired, but what choice did you have? It was either that or--No. Don’t go there.

Blood is probably splattered over your clothes--it is for Sasha at least. She looks particularly fierce and you’re not sure when she had time to grab the knife and pot she has in her hands.

“We need to get out of the building,” Eren says from somewhere behind you, “The school isn’t safe anymore.”

“I noticed,” Ymir hisses, “How the fuck do we get out? We’re overrun.”

“The roof?” Armin suggests. Nobody responds and you think someone’s probably responded via head movement.

_ Bang! _

You grab your wrist and bite your lip, trying to ignore the pain the shoots through you. Sasha smacks her pot into one of them when it reaches for you and you jump back into the room most everyone was now in.

_ Them _ . You didn’t want to say the word, because these... _ creatures _ were probably once your friends. Maybe even your family. 

But everyone knew what was going on. Everyone knew what this was. The words just wouldn’t come out.

You slam the door shut behind you while Eren and Jean--cooperating for once--push up a desk to the block the door. Thudding sounds from the other side and you have to tear your gaze away from it.

“Is the window clear?” Marco asks, putting a chair on top of the desk. Bertolt glances at the window but flinches.

“Probably not,” he mutters, “Reiner and I heard thumping the other night...They’re probably there too.”

“You heard  _ thumping _ ?” Eren echos, mouth agape. “You heard thumping and you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“Well,” Bertolt half-heartedly shrugs, “I didn’t...”

“This is the fucking--” Eren practically shouts, throwing his hands up and cutting himself off. You angrily huff, marching over to shove yourself between Eren and Bertolt.

“It was my fault,” you tell him, “I said it was just trees.”

Eren’s livid. He looks ready to take a swing at you, even though you’re the one with the gun. If Mikasa we here, she’s probably do the same.

You’re actually pissed off at him for this. He shouldn’t be snapping at Bertolt for something you did. He shouldn’t be snapping at Bertolt at all.

Bertolt yanks you back, away from Eren. You huff and shrug his hands off your arm, stalking to the window to look out. Eren glares at you.

He was right, of course. There was a fairly large amount of... _ them _ gathered around outside, but more spread out than they were in the main hallway of your rundown school. You could probably clear a path to make it out but you didn’t want to risk anyone being...bitten.

Krista leans over next to you, frowning. She’d hardly said a word but that expression was enough.

More thuds sound at the door and the others have started gathering around the window as well. They clearly all have the same idea you do but don’t want to put themselves in danger.

“Okay,” Jean sighs, “I guess we need to gather anything in this room that we need. Only things that we can carry with one hand, in pockets or in a backpack if you have one.” You catch Marco’s almost proud look before everyone quickly begins to disperse and pack things needed.

Mikasa, Connie and Marcel weren’t with you when this all started. You don’t know whether they’re dead, alive or one of  _ them _ . The last thought makes you shake with dread. 

“Okay,” Armin squeaks when the door thuds are louder and beginning to shake the desk and chairs, “I think it’s time to move out.”

Everyone quickly agrees and you notice most of the others have picked up very little as well as something that could be used as a weapon.

“How much is left in that?” Annie asks, singling towards your pistol. You pull it out and look through.

“Five bullets left,” you tell her, “It won’t do much. I really think we should let someone else have this.”

Nobody says anything. Whoever has the pistol would be in the lead, and what sane person would volunteer to do that?

You shrug your defeat.

“Reiner, you and Sasha can go first,” Marco starts. Sasha had been in the archery club and was the next best person to have up front.

“Annie, Ymir and I will be last,” he adds, “Everyone else stay together. Don’t separate, no matter what.”

With that, you and Sasha open the window as quietly and you can. The creatures closest are the only ones to react and you toss the pencils you have to a direction other than the window. Most of them take the bait but one begins to stumble to the window.

You drop down, quickly followed by Marco, Annie and Ymir. You and Sasha begin to creep forward as they help Eren, Bertolt, Krista, and Jean out. 

You’ve all hardly made it to the parking lot before one of them gets too close to Sasha for your liking and you fire a round into it.

And suddenly you’re being swarmed. 

What a stupid idea it was for you to do something so loud. Everyone practically panics and finds themselves climbing up onto the abandoned cars. Bertolt jumps up next to you, grabbing your arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “That was my fault.” He squeezes your arm, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbles back. One of them reaches for his legs and he kicks its face.

You were probably about to die. All of you were, and it was  _ your  _ fault.

“Bertolt,” you find yourself saying, “We’re about to die, right? I need to get this off my chest.”

Even through the loud moaning and yelling from the others, the world practically melts away.

“I love you,” you tell him, “I’ve loved you for a long time.” He stares down at you, face unreadable aside from the panic of the situation. Before you you can say anything more, he grabs you and kisses you.

“I love you too,” Bertolt whispers. You feel your heart soar...only to be brought back to reality when the car begins to move at the feeling of one of  _ them _ crawling onto the hood. He grabs your hands. 

“I want you to keep living,” he mumbles. You realize he’s crying. “Even if it’s without me...Keep on going..”

No...he wasn’t just taking your hands. He was taking your pistol.

A fear flashes through your mind that he’s going to shoot himself, but instead he leaps off the car and falls to the ground a few feet away, obviously hurting his knee. He fires off two shot to the two of the  _ creatures _ close to him and everything goes silent.

They turn to him. He shoots another. One bullet left.

They begin to stumble towards him, leaving everyone alone.

You begin to take a step off the car, as if to try and step in and save him. As soon as you can, though, Marco and Sasha are wrapped around your legs and picking you up, off the car.

“We can’t,” Sasha mumbles in your ear. Bertolt fires the last bullet.

“We can,” you hiss back, failing in your struggle against Sasha, Marco and now Ymir as well. Annie has a distraught look on her face but follows you all anyway.

Some part of your mind feels hazy. Like you’re remembering something you shouldn’t be. You can almost see it replaying--dark hair, someone you cared about pushing you out of harm’s way only to be hurt himself.

_ “You’ll be okay!”  _ His voice told you,  _ “Tell my brother I’m sorry if you see him.” _

It’s all too much for you. The world starts to blur and you can’t tell if what you’re remembering is real or fake.

The last thing you see is Bertolt’s teary face through a crowd of zombies before you black out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep spelling zombies as zoombies...nyoom (also bert's not good at following directions) ~KK
> 
> We have tumblr!! We're the mods on href="https://cowardlysnek.tumblr.com/">here!


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing you do when you open your eyes is immediately close them again. Sunlight beams through the window and right onto your face, too bright for you to bear. You roll onto your side and slowly open them again.

The area around you is unfamiliar. You know right away this isn’t the school--didn’t you leave the school?--and sit up. You don’t know where you are and you don’t know how you got there.

“Hello?” You call out, quietly. There’s no answer except for the noise of something being dropped in a different room.

Was it just you? Was everyone else bitten and abandoned you in an unknown room?

“Reiner!” It’s Krista. She appears in the doorway, hair tied back into a braid. She looks...a little childish, actually. 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” She says, “You went to bed pretty early last night and didn’t wake up when everyone else did. Annie was worried.”

Annie? Worried? What a bizarre statement. Krista seemed to realize it really was and waved her hands as if tell you no.

“We were  _ all  _ worried!” She laughed, “You’ve been acting strangely for the past week.”

The past...week? Weren’t you just leaving the school yesterday?

“Hey, uh...What happened?” You find yourself asking. Krista tilts her head and raises and eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” She asks. You fumble for the words.

“We were leaving the school, right? What happened after?” She practically squints at you, obviously confused.

“Everybody made it out,” Krista starts. You sigh in relief--if Bertolt was alright, everything was fine with you. 

“We still haven’t gone back to look through the area, though,” She adds, trailing off. It sounded like she was hinting to something but you’re not sure what. You nod and push yourself up to your feet.

“What are we doing now?” You ask, stretching. She hums, still a little confused, but answers your question. 

“Looking for a new place to stay, I guess.” She laughs, “Er, we’re eating lunch now, too! That’s why I came to check on you.”

Food sounded great, honestly. You’d happily take whatever you could get.

You follow Krista out of the room and quickly realize you were all in a some sort of convenience store--maybe a 7-11 or something. Most everything was haphazardly pulled off the shelves and various empty bags were scattered across the floor, but someone must’ve found a supply of food.

Everyone’s gathered in what you assume was a break room. It was fairly cramped for all of you to be in, but you all managed it.

“Hey!” Armin calls when you follow Krista into the room, “Just in time.” You glance around the room and squeeze yourself between Sasha and Eren.

“Thanks for the meal,” You hear Eren mutter. He probably picked it up from Mikasa, you think.

Everyone begins to eat...whatever it was they were eating. You see a bag of chips being passed around and what looked like a pot full of old microwaveable rice. What a meal.

You glance around again and it occurs to you that something is missing. Something very important. Some _ one _ very important.

“Where’s Bertolt?” You ask.

“What?” Ymir echos. You notice most everyone has stopped what they’re doing to stare at you.

“Bertolt,” You repeat, “Krista said everyone was okay, so where’s Bertolt?”

Nobody speaks. Almost like nobody knows what to say.

“Bertolt’s fine,” It’s Marco that says this, “He went out earlier this morning on a secret mission.”

Secret mission? What? With zombies around everywhere? You’d think that was stupid but Bertolt was plenty strong and could handle himself. He probably had the pistol--he was the best shot out of everyone. He’d be okay.

“Did he say when he’d be back?” You finally ask. Marco shrugs. “He said ‘as soon as I’m done, I’ll come back’,” he pauses, “And he told me to tell you he hopes you start feeling better.”

Your mouth is pulled into a tight frown, but you nod. Bertolt wouldn’t leave unless it was important...So you could trust him.

Everyone goes back to eating, but you feel the tenseness in the room. Those who speak do so softly, or lean across the table to whisper. For a moment, it’s like you’re not there and you’re seeing a scene you shouldn’t be.

“Are you feeling okay?” You hear Sasha ask softly. You look over to her and slowly nod. She looks unconvinced but takes your answer as the truth.

“It was a good suggestion to come here,” She says, “Thanks for taking charge this past week. I think Jean really appreciates it.” You blink, confused, but nod again and turn to your small meal. You could’ve sworn it had only been a day since you left the school. Where had the week gone?

And Bertolt was...out, too. That would give you a good amount of time to work up the courage to confess to him, right? On the off chance he actually did have feelings for you and not for Annie. Yeah...you’d tell him when he got back. Then you could sweep him up in your arms and spend all night kissing him.

That thought alone makes you wish he'd come back sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reiner "i really want to make out with the guy i have a crush on" braun  
> reiner "i'll take that probably false answer as true" braun  
> reiner "i swear nothing is actually wrong" braun  
>  _reiner braun, everybody_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning for mild suicidal idealization**
> 
> he doesn't actually want to kill himself but I feel that the thought of "I think I'm going to die but I'm not sure, so if I am, please happen faster" may be taken this way, so I'm going to be safe and put this warning now

What were you thinking, jumping off the roof of a car and into the middle of a bunch of zombies? No sane person would do that. Not unless it was just a stunt for a movie and they were being paid money.

You must not be sane, then. Because a _sane_ person _definitely wouldn’t_ leap off a car, fight zombies with a bloody leg and no real weapon and then limp-sprint to ‘safety’ and hide under a bench.

Your leg hurt. A lot. You don’t think you could walk very far without it collapsing under you. Blood was even beginning to seep through and stain your pants....It probably wasn’t that big of a wound, but you hadn’t had a chance to look at it and you feared what you’d find.

Was there a chance you were bitten? Were you going to turn into a zombie yourself? Were these your final moments alive?

You close your eyes. The fight had to have been at least half an hour ago. If you were going to turn, now would be nice. You could spend your last few minutes thinking about what had just happened again. Kissing Reiner, jumping off the car, fighting your way through the zombies...

Kissing Reiner. You’d like kinda like to do that again, so maybe death would have to wait.

Part two of ‘running and attempting to fight zombies’, you muse. It wasn’t much of a fight in the first place. All you had was an empty pistol and a flashlight. What were you going to do, bang them over the head until they collapsed? You only made it out in the first place because you were thin and fast enough to pull yourself out of the way.

And even if they were mindless zombies, the thought of bashing their heads in with a flashlight was gory enough to make you recoil just thinking about it...Bleh. Nothing like shooting one.

You're still sitting on the ground and your leg _fucking burns_. You grimace as you try to pull yourself out. Limping to somewhere ‘safer’ was probably better than laying down on the ground and dying.

Either way, break time was over and exposing the wound to the air was more dangerous here compared to waiting until you were somewhere else. Somewhere with peroxide, maybe bleach… alcohol wouldn't be too bad either, but you weren't sure if that was actually a disinfectant.

You would scream if it wouldn’t nearly guarantee your death. Your wound felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing it. It almost felt like scraping your knee at the playground, but every movement made it feel as if something else had gotten in. Maybe glass?

You don't know, but you've got to find somewhere to hide. Disinfectant would be nice, but even a gas station may not have anything anymore. Baby wipes wouldn't be bad? You don't know, but the bench just outside of the parking lot was probably one of the worst places you could be.

You sigh inwardly, reeling at how the sound almost echoes.

You were never one to head off of school property during lunch time, and you always bussed into the school anyways. You had no clue where anything is. This is what you get for being a recluse, then. You wish you’d gone out with Reiner on more ‘excursions’ before all… _this_ happened.

You start to limp off into the street. You can practically smell the blood from your leg, but you’re _not_ going to look down.

Fortunately, your purposely quiet limping was quiet enough to not draw attention to the zombies. There was still a bigger crowd than you’d like, but most of them seemed...tired, almost? Uninterested.

One of the zombies turns towards you and begins to hobble and groan as if it was after you. You bite your lip and shuffle a bit to the side. It follows you. Shit. It knew you were there. Could it communicate with the others? Would they all chase after you? Your fears are confirmed when another starts limping towards you.

Okay. It’s only two of them. It seemed the others didn’t notice you, so you just needed to limp faster than the zombies.

Easier said than done.

First off, your leg was bleeding and really hurt--no running allowed. Second, you had to be as quiet as possible so no other zombies were attracted to you...It might be too late for that now, though. The two after you were groaning fairly loudly and obviously attracting some attention.

You didn’t have anything to throw as a distraction aside from the pistol or flashlight. Neither was a very smart option, but a flashlight would be more helpful in the long run compared to an empty pistol.

You pull the pistol out and aim it back towards one of the zombies, pulling the trigger on the off chance there was still a bullet left. Nothing fires.

With probably the worst aim you’ve ever had, you chuck the pistol at one of the zombies. It stumbles back and the pistol clatters to the ground, letting out a fairly loud thud. The zombies in the area turn their attention to you.

You glance around and burst into an awkward sprint away.

Your leg felt like shit and you wouldn’t be surprised if your limp-sprinting was leaving a blood-splatter trail. If you got lost, you could follow it back to the school like you were in a fucking fairy tale.

What a joke.

You hardly make it a block down before your leg gives out and you fall, hardly able to brace your fall with your hands. You let out a shocked cry and immediately roll to your side, holding your arms close to your chest.

There were considerably less zombies on this street. Almost like all of them had been gathering around the school. Actually, you could almost believe that. You weren’t exactly quiet during your time hiding there.

You decide it best to just stay on the ground for the moment. The palms of your hands were scraped and one was bleeding a little, but mostly it just stung.

Finally you shift and pull your pant leg up to asses the damage. It was a terrible idea, but you could feel the cloth sticking to your skin.

It was gross looking. Those were the only words you could truly use to describe it. As you’d theorized, some piece of garbage or _something_ was wedged in, the end of it sitting out and disgusting. You could pull it out, but that would likely open it up again and your knee would be an even more bloody mess.

Yeah...At least the bleeding had mostly stopped. It was probably only bleeding now because of your fall.

There was nothing else you could do, though. You had no way to clean or dress the wound without moving around a lot, so all you could do was hope it wasn’t _infected_ or started bleeding again.

You pull your ripped pant leg back down and curl up as small as your injuries can handle, letting your thoughts take you over. Worst case scenario, you’d turn into a zombie. Best case scenario, someone finds you and helps you. With the way things were going, the former seemed most likely. You were curled up on a sidewalk, for crying out loud.

If you were really going to die from this, you wished it would happen faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: dont worry berts gonna make it to a place to stay  
> me @ me: but maybe he just passes out on the sidewalk
> 
> bert: i have no bullets. eat a fucking gun >:c


	8. Chapter 8

You’ve been waiting for Bertolt to come back from his ‘mission’ for the last week, and yet nothing. Nobody’s said a word about it…and even Marco’s dodged the question one too many times. 

You’re having a hard time staying calm as long as Bertolt was still out there alone. ‘What the fuck’s with all the secrecy?!’ you almost shouted yesterday at supper (where for yet another night, everyone ate quietly. You didn’t miss the quick glances thrown your direction), but you decided against it just in time.

So here you are, waiting at a barricaded window, peeking through at every chance you can because  _ goddammit _ he could be back any time. He should be, at least. He  _ had  _ to be.

You notice Jean shouting in the back room and you’re wondering who dropped what now. You notice one of those lethargic heads outside turn and fear begins to flood you. When it turns back and keeps walking, you let out a sigh of relief. You don’t want another overrun.

You get up out of your chair, and you wince at the scraping sound of it against the tile; Another quick glance out the window shows that the zombie didn’t notice. Thank god.

Your steps are loud at the beginning but they start to blend in with the noise of the rest of the party as you walk in to meet them. Sasha’s also staring out at a window and you know why, but you refuse to tell her to stop. You know why she’s looking, and it’d be hypocritical of you to saying she shouldn’t.

“Hey Sasha,” you hazard, and she turns back and grins at you. 

“Hi, Reiner!” She looks kinda surprised. “You haven’t been out here in a bit, what’s up?”

She’s really loud, too, you note. You hold a hand out and lower it as the universal signal to get her to  quiet down. “There’s a few of _them_ outside and y’all are getting...pretty loud.”

“Oh,” She says that a little quieter but still jumps up away from the window. There’s a pause. “Oh yeah! Marco wanted to tell you something. That was yesterday and we haven’t seen you since then.”

Now you’re confused. You just had supper an hour ago, right? “Really now?” you say aloud.

“Yeah. You’ve cooped yourself up in that room for the last while,” she says. “Well, either way, Marco wants to talk to you and--” She’s cut off by another shout from Jean and the both of you wince. “Yeah, they’re really loud, sorry,” she mutters.

Well, it’s all of your asses that are going to get eaten if they didn’t shut up. Would you even remember it though?

“Don’t be. You’re not the loud one.” You hear another shout from Jean, but this time it sounds more like a wounded howl. Now you’re worried. “Either way, gotta go.” You twist away, and you hear Sasha’s chair twist as she gets back to kneeling on top of it and looking back at the window.

Connie’s probably dead, but you don’t have the heart to tell her that. Nobody does.

You push past a shelf and your mind jumps to the worst thought you could’ve had; Bertolt was probably dead too, but nobody wanted to tell you.

It’s likely, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the thought begins to bounce around your head. What if the mission’s fake? Some cover story? 

You get into the back staff room and Eren’s got Jean pinned down. He’s struggling to escape, but Eren has all of his weight on Jean’s thigh.

And Jean’s spitting mad. It probably explained that howl from a second ago. Knees on the inside of someone’s thigh  _ hurts. _

“What’s going on...?”

Eren gets off of Jean and brushes his knees off. “Got ‘im.” Jean stays on the ground, breathing in deeply and waiting for a moment before getting back up onto his feet.

“Fucker,” he whispers. His legs are a little shaky.

“You guys’re really loud. There’s a few of ‘em out there and you guys yelling like that’s really putting us on edge.” Putting  _ you _ on edge, but you’re sure it’s because nobody else has noticed...

“Yeah, we get it.” Eren takes a second before slumping down. “It’s just boring back here,” he says. “Can’t do shit, you know?”

“It’s better than dying out there.” You can’t believe that you have to lecture someone about this, but before you continue you notice a foot sticking out from behind the desk. You cock your head to get a better look at the owner of it and see it’s Marco. He looks up and just kinda…stares at you. There wasn't any bad news, was there?

“Hey Marco,” you say as casually as you can manage, before going back to Eren and Jean.

“Don’t say any more,” Jean says finally. “It’s great you’re giving me a break but you don’t need to be our  _ mom. _ ”

“So you’re not gonna attract any more attention?”

“No,” he says finally.

“Thanks. I’m going back to the front then.”

“Great,” Eren says, practically spitting.

You close the door and hope that they won’t start anything again. The walk back to the “room” you’d blocked yourself in is short, and you slip back in there in even shorter order.

You finally get down into the semi-comfortable position you were in before, leaning forward on your chair and staring out the window. Like a dog, you realize, but push the thought away. It was good to be loyal to Bertolt. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do. And the thought of him finding the gas station and then not being let in because nobody saw him was too much to bear.

There’s a pause as you go back to staring to empty streets, save the few zombies that are just.. Wandering around and staring into nowhere. Just like before.

There’s no activity, so it’s not like Bertolt’s around. You half-wish he was, but you wouldn’t want him to be while zombies are around. You’re terrified that they’d get him before they could shoot them away and Reiner could get past the barricaded door.

“You in there…?” you hear a familiar voice say and you twist around. It sounds like Marco… Sasha was saying that he’d wanted to talk to you.

“Yeah..!” you say relatively quietly.

He pushes past the box blocking the entrance and shifts it back into place. “You’re not doing anything?”

You shrug. What is there for you to do?

“You’re… you’re really worried, huh.” His freckled face pulls into a frown, and he leans against the wall beside the window (the only solid wall in the place.)

“Sort of.” You’re now terrified that he’s dead and everyone’s lying to you, but you don’t have the heart to say that aloud. 

“Oh…” There’s a pause and he tilts his head back to sigh. “Well, it’ll be alright. He’s got a gun and a knife if it runs out of ammo.”

That’s comforting, at least. There’s a silence, and you know there’s something on his mind. “So… what’s up?” you ask finally, thinking of how he was huddled behind a desk a few minutes ago. He looked so… intense back then, and mixed with the knowledge he had something to say to you, you could feel the pit starting to form in your stomach.

He sits down against the wall and your chair screeches as you scoot away to give him room (to get away in all reality). “Sorry,” you murmur, but he shrugs it off.

“You wanna go on a mission with Armin and I?” he asks finally.

Huh? You were expecting much worse, but you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Where to..?” Finding Bertolt? You doubt that’s the reason why, though.

“Library. There’re supplies around there, I think… And it’s connected to the municipal building, so it’s fairly reinforced too…” Marco shrugs again.

“Oh.” You were expecting a grocery store, but in all honesty any of them would have been stripped bare. You guys were lucky to find this in an alright-enough state.

“So would you wanna go?” he prods. “Like I said, Armin’s coming too so it’s not like it’s not safe.”

“Yeah…” you say. “Any reason you asked me..?”

“Not really…” He leans back against the wall, and again, another sigh. “You’ve just been in here for a while. It might be good for you to get some air, ‘specially if you’re so worried about Bertolt…”

Oh...of course. It made sense though. “Alright… Then, yeah, I’ll definitely come.”

Marco smiles, eyes narrowing into long-lashed slits. “Thanks, man. See you in the morning?”

You shrug. “Sure.”


End file.
